Family Ties
by Landscaper01
Summary: Follow-up to "So Familiar, So Unknown". Selina is knee-deep in a glamorous new career in Italy while Bruce works to help Gotham pick up the pieces and return to financial profitability. When a big event in Gotham leads Blake to a discovery that affects Selina's past and future, only Bruce can be the one to keep her grounded.
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: Happy almost one-year anniversary of the release of TDKR! Here's the follow-up/sequel to _So Familiar, So Unknown _that I've been working on Chapter 1 of for five months (no lie)! If you haven't read _SFSU _or even _Break-in At The Batcave_, I would recommend reading both of those before you start this one, because otherwise you'll probably be quite confused by references to those stories.

I started this story for a few reasons. Number one, I absolutely LOVE writing Bruce & Selina. Number two, everyone's feedback for the first few stories was SO appreciated by me, and I love you guys for taking the time to tell me how you feel about my writing (shout-outs to ireneselina and slingblade125, especially!). But the sad thing is, I truly have NO idea when I'll have time to update this story. It might not be for weeks at a time. BUT, if you're all willing to hang out with me through this crazy ride, then I'm willing to keep writing, even if writing this story literally takes me forever (my work schedule is CRAZY and I'm technically living on two coasts right now, so that's the issue).

On one final note, I'm introducing this story ten months post-Gotham and also including some brand new characters. I'm a bit nervous about that, but hopefully in time the writing will clear up any new-character confusion. :)

Now...on with the story!

* * *

**Family Ties, Chapter 1**

"No. No means no, means no," Selina snarled.

She lifted her head out of her hands and rubbed at her temple with burgundy-wine manicured nails, glowering at her supervisor as she pushed back off of her desk with her elbows. The rollaway office chair spun beneath her, squeaking loudly as rubber wheels met the resistance of marble tile. She stood and looked out at the modernized skyline of Gallipoli, sighing as she did so.

"Maria…bella…you're throwing away a huge opportunity for this company. Not to mention a huge opportunity for you, professionally."

Alvise walked up behind her and stood close enough that Selina stalked away from the window, though she could literally _feel _his dark eyes narrowing in disapproval even as she kept her back to him. She didn't need to look at him – in his double-breasted, tone-on-tone striped, two-thousand-dollar-suit – to know that his jaw was set in a hard line, and that the air of arrogance he carried about him was never worse than when he was trying to talk one of "his girls" into a business deal.

"I came on board to sell you designs. Half of this shit I've put up with wasn't part of the agreement."

Selina gestured around the room at the fabrics that hung from countless racks, at the poster boards featuring rail-thin models, and at her workstation that was overflowing with paperwork. "Shoes. It started with shoes, then it turned into clothes. Then from clothes into bags. But I'll draw the line at being one of _them." _

"You're kidding, right? The public would love you. You have all of the classic features, bella. Big, dark, expressive eyes. Exquisite facial features. A delicate waist-"

Selina spun on her heel and held up a hand to silence him. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stop it right there," she growled. "I said no to the photos. I'm not a model and I have less than zero interest in being recognized by even one person on this entire planet. So either you'll drop it, or I drop this company."

Alvise Angelletti crossed his arms over his broad frame and stared Selina down, not entirely impressed by her tough-girl attitude but knowing by now that playing hardball with her wasn't going to get him anywhere. She'd been a huge asset to the _Walk_ fashion house in the past several months, and though he knew little about her outside of her edgy design ideas, she exuded street smarts in a way that no other woman at the company did.

"Ms. Robinson, I would just prefer that you didn't make any…rash…decisions. You _do_ realize that any number of women would kill to be in your position. And you know how difficult it is to find a good footwear agent, let alone to get your line onto a production floor. To follow that act with the execution of a successful clothing line speaks volumes about your potential as a household name. _Walk_ is where women with their husband's money drag those unsuspecting men into storefronts filled with tomorrow's hottest designs because we know that proclaiming them as _today's_ designs means we're already behind the times. It's where our finest floor models smile and spirit credit cards away from the lax grip of a potential buyer's hands. This is a _money_ business, bella. And money has an allure that even women like _you_ aren't immune to."

Selina arched an eyebrow and snorted at him. "You think I'm impressed by any of this? I didn't take this job because I need the money. I took it because I'm good at what I do. Lucky for me, I've got a number of options if this doesn't pan out."

Her heels clicked with authority as she moved back to her workstation, picking up a file and flipping through it as if to dismiss her superior from the room. When he continued to watch her without a word, she looked up at him with flippant annoyance written all over her face.

"Was there something else?" she snapped. "I need to schedule pattern makers for the designs that Ginevra just approved."

Alvise ran a large hand over the black silk tie that hung loosely around his neck, making a show of perching himself comfortably on the edge of her desk before looking back up at her through curious, almond-shaped eyes.

"I just find it…interesting…that you're not in this business for money. Your paychecks are all being deposited offshore. That's not true of any of our other employees. You've also got no background record. Not even a parking fine to blemish your reputation. It just leads me to wonder exactly who or _what_ we're financing each time we fund your salary."

"And what business would it be of _yours_, as to where my paychecks are deposited?" Selina gripped a pen and rotated it in her clenched fingers, openly rolling her eyes as she peered at him with a mask of indifference. "If you're going to fire me for _not_ having a criminal record, can you can get on with it so I can get on with my day?"

Alvise cleared his throat and stood, shifting his hands to his pockets as he did so. She could see the gears turning behind his stormy gaze as he assessed her, but she was waiting on a retort that never came. He clenched his teeth and turned away, pushing through her office door with a heaving gesture as he stalked away.

A feeling of satisfaction advanced on Selina as the door frame rattled from his hasty retreat, the high sweeping through her blood like a narcotic that she hadn't felt in a while. The rush stayed with her as she stood again, slowly, and walked to the glass that overlooked the gridded structure of the streets, boulevards, shops, homes and offices that made up the "new" section of the island fortress town. She pressed her fingertips to the cool glass and watched Alvise stalk across the parking lot to his designer vehicle, his head making minute movements and his back twitching before he climbed inside. The engine gunned to life as he and the car disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and Selina smirked to herself as she thought about the luxury of such a great set of wheels being wasted on such a pathetic excuse for a man.

She grabbed her files and marched out to the elevator, jamming her thumb on the 'up' button. She waited for the elevator to head north, watching the floor numbers light up in ascending order, each at a glacial pace. Finally, the number 'four' glowed and the elevator dinged, its golden doors sliding open like gaping jaws. She darted in and let it carry her up, grateful that nobody was inside to grill her about Mr. Angelletti's hurried exit

She found his other half exactly where she thought would - in her cozy office suite that sat tucked in the back corner of the building's top floor. From here, the sand on the old limestone island sparkled in the mid-afternoon sun, and the sight never failed to take Selina's breath away every time she ventured upstairs to visit the fashion house's owner and CEO.

The door was open, but Selina was still far enough away that she couldn't totally see into the space beyond. The sound of Ginevra Angelletti's voice carried, mumbling, tumbling through the air toward her in fashion speak and fabric measurement jargon. She was flipping through design proposals and making voice notes on her tablet, using her smartphone as a backup while also balancing her personal family calendar. There were days when Selina would come up here in a frenzy, and she would soon find herself lulled by their fiercely multi-tasking leader. Today was one of those days, and it wasn't just because Selina marveled at the other woman's ability to juggle several roles at once.

It was because she knew _Mrs._ Angelletti was often as sick of _Mr. _Angelletti's shit as Selina was.

Selina stepped inside the doorway and glanced around the small workspace. It was semi-disorganized but at least it wasn't choking on papers like one might expect of a CEO's office – and what many other offices in the building looked like. A tall stack of papers and folders sat on the desk next to the computer. New designs waiting to be approved were maintained on a separate art desk, and both desks met in a perfect "L" shape that allowed for easy maneuverability between them. Silver framed photographs of the Angelletti children were featured prominently on shelves above the desk and on the original stone fireplace on the back wall. Tall vases of fresh flowers dotted the space throughout. The centerpiece that always caught Selina's eye, however, was the painting of the Angellettis that hung between the two large bow windows overlooking the hypnotizing turquoise of the Ionian Sea.

In the painting the attractive couple was pictured in happier times…smiling, arms around each other, raising glasses. It appeared to be a replica painting of a photograph taken at a social function. Alvise looked younger, his face less creased with time, and more carefree. Indelibly, Ginevra Angelleti smiled. Her auburn hair was twisted up in a fabulous half-French twist, shimmering locks spilling out of the top in a swath of curls. She looked like she'd just stepped off of a runway – nothing but chic. Selina could appreciate it for what it was because on their faces, she recognized what she had now with Bruce – the kind of love that could make everyone around you envious.

"That was the day we celebrated _Talk_'s first appearance at Paris Fashion Week," Ginevra Angelletti said. "Before we moved to this big building and hired a lot more staff, before we needed more designers, before kids came along…"

Selina moved back a step at Ginevra's sudden interjection. She hadn't realized the other woman had stopped her note dictations or even noticed her standing in her office.

"Before your husband started being an ass to your staff?" Selina asked bluntly, and Ginevra whirled her chair around to face her and put her tablet down on her mahogany desk with a _thunk_.

"Is that why I just saw him peel out of here? Did you put him in his place again?"

Selina smoothly glided into a sleek leather chair that sat facing the desk, her posture straight and commanding of her boss's attention.

"He asked me to model in an ad for those Noir Rockstud Cage Flats I designed. When I said no, he didn't take it so well," Selina shrugged. "He should know by now not to push my buttons."

Ginevra's lips turned up slightly as she regarded Selina for a long, long second. Her gaze twitched around to the photos on her desk, and then back to her employee. Her coffee-colored eyes narrowed.

"Did he come on to you?" she asked quietly.

"_Please_," Selina smirked. "Do you think he'd have walked out of here on two working legs if he had said anything inappropriate?"

"Fear of rejection or repercussion hasn't stopped him from going after every woman in this place."

She turned to her right, picked up a stack of designs and pushed them toward Selina. "Everything you've done with this Rockstud line is going to be huge. Bigger than huge. Leather? Metal? It's sexy as hell and he wants the right face for it. The day I met you on the street in Florence, I noticed you because _you_ wore the shoes, not the other way around. A lesser woman lets this line wear her."

Selina shook her head and bit her lip in a wry, frustrated smile.

"So you knew that he was going to approach me? You know how he approaches every woman who works for this company. And yet you put up with it. Why?"

Ginevra paused and frowned, her breath caught in her throat, and a blush flourished across her skin. Heat swept down her neck as she released a long-suffering sigh and then recovered.

"When you have three children, it isn't that easy. Besides, you don't just _divorce_ Alvise Angelletti. We make things work the best way we can. He's a good businessman. I'll talk him down on the idea of using you for any of our campaigns. If he gets any more aggressive, let me know. I hired you for design purposes, nothing else."

Selina nodded even though something deeper was settling into her gut. She and this woman were business associates – not friends – but she couldn't shake the feeling that so much more needed to be said.

Now was not the time and place.

"I'll get to work then, on bringing those pattern makers in," Selina said as she stood up. "After I make those calls, though, I think I'm going to take some personal time this afternoon and head out a few hours early. Since Alvise stormed out and the rest of the girls downstairs are useless, I'm letting _you_ know."

She turned on her heel and let her feet carry her out of the office then, not waiting for another word from the woman who watched her go with a disguised yet distressed expression.

* * *

The slight squeak of her footfalls – three-inch stilettos on marble – marked Selina's passage into the foyer at home. The door had opened and shut and keys had jingled, distant and faint to Alfred's ears, until she got closer to where he stood in the main drawing room. The telltale _pause_ of when she stopped to kick the offending shoes off happened then, too, along with the soft _thud_ of the leather material hitting the floor. She'd leave a trail of shoes to and from her closet if she had her way, but inevitably Alfred would make a fuss about the main entry hall not being a designer shoe rack, and the next morning as she dressed she'd find all of her footwear neatly arranged on the appropriate spaces in her bedroom's walk-in.

"You're home early today," he greeted her as she rounded the corner and came into view, nearly staggering right into him in the process. Without the added height she was a good several inches shorter than he was, and he would be lying if he didn't admit to getting a tickle out of the rare occasion that _he _loomed over _her_ and not the other way around.

"I needed to get out of that office," she responded as she pulled out her earrings and set them on the shiny surface of the checkerboard-patterned side table that stood at her hip. "Told the boss I was taking a few personal hours."

Alfred bent and scooped the jewelry carefully into his palm as Selina pretended not to notice. "Is everything all right at the office, Miss Kyle?"

Selina looked away as her eyes and ears scanned the house for Bruce. "It's…fine," she replied with a forced airiness. "Just needed a breather from the place."

Alfred's incredulousness dripped from him as he eyed her wearily, but he mumbled only a brief, "Very well, then" as he moved past her. Over the past several months, he'd learned enough about Selina's nature, personality and body language to know that she'd tell him things when she wanted to or needed advice. But if he had to pry information out of her, then likely it was never his business to begin with.

She watched him retreat and made her way down the stairs to the lowest level of the house, pulling her hair down from the neat bun it had been tucked in, and shaking it out as she went. She was padding quietly back to the master bedroom suite when the sound of familiar voices stopped her in her tracks, and she turned and approached the open door of Bruce's makeshift office.

He sat in the small room, a twelve-by-twelve-foot workspace, with his back to the door and concentrating on the high-definition video monitor that displayed larger-than-life, real-time images of Lucius Fox, John Blake and Jim Gordon. The three men were crowded into Fox's office back in Gotham - where it was literally in the earliest hours of the morning– and Selina was fairly certain that none of them knew how ridiculous their faces looked blown up on Bruce's latest technological wonder.

As Bruce had become further engrained in trying to help Fox get Wayne Enterprises back to making a profit from across the ocean, the spare room upstairs had become his media room of sorts. A handsome oak desk sat perpendicular to the wall that was adjacent to the door. Several sophisticated desktop computers that were on upgrade cycles far ahead of the rest of the world at large sat at the corner of the desk, their main purpose to provide him with direct access to back to the communications headquarters Fox had built for Blake back at Saint Swithens. The rest of the desk basically served as shelf space for other items that he hadn't gotten around to integrating yet into the greater disarray. The greater disarray being the cascading, tumbling wall of files, books and electronic gadgets that had been pulled from the old cave in Gotham and had been sent to Italy via many an Express package from Fox.

Selina almost got a kick out of the little cluster of space that had become a haven of disorganization for Bruce. Alfred had turned his nose up at the prospect of Bruce getting back in too deep with the goings-on in Gotham, refusing to touch the room when he went about his daily task of picking up the rest of the house. Selina, however, found herself strangely at ease with the thought of Bruce spending his free time still overseeing Gotham's rise from the ashes that Bane's army of thugs had left it in. As long as he was here and not there, he was merely acting as a confidant and director. And through his months of recuperation when he could do little in the way of physical activity, being holed up in this room and talking to the men who had been like family to him had been therapeutic.

The trio in Gotham saw Selina enter their line of vision before Bruce realized that she was in the room, and the chatter instantly died down as Fox let out a low wolf whistle that left the other two men fighting their efforts to remain stone-faced.

"Miss Kyle…dare I say that your presence is worth burning the midnight oil?"

His familiar, deep baritone voice caused a smile to cross Selina's lips – the first genuine smile she'd allowed her expression to relax into all day – and she playfully curtsied as Bruce turned around in surprise and caught her gaze. She held his questioning look for only a short moment before she came close enough to rest a hand on his shoulder and squeeze him affectionately before turning her attention back to the men watching them.

Fox had been to visit them in Italy twice now, and she had seen Blake a few months back when Bruce had gone to Gotham to assist with his training and Selina had followed without telling him. She hadn't seen Gordon, however, since the day he'd watched Bruce hitch a bomb out of the concrete jungle of a tunnel mouth and fly it out over the bay. When she had stood there helpless, her body tripwire tense, and they'd both watched Batman vanish from sight. It used to be that every time she saw him on one of Bruce's video chats, it was like looking into the eyes of the only man in Gotham who'd seen her trying to pretend that a gunshot wound was a paper cut, when tears of frustration and loss had swept down her cheeks, when she had felt insignificant and shrinking under the weight of his weary gaze.

Now, each time she saw Jim Gordon, it became a little easier to not see the only man in years who had seen her wilted, her limbs going lifeless, the chill in the city air climbing inside of every pore of her body at once. The time in Gotham seemed so much more distant – like memories from a book she'd read a long time ago – even though it was less than a year. Ten months, to be exact. For a long while, she had waited each day for things to feel like an epiphany, like everything that could be done to wash Gotham out of their skin _had_ been done. But over time, Bruce had reminded her that "normal" life shouldn't involve piling on more mental stress. Now, she looked at these other men back in Gotham as her extended family. One she thought she'd never have, and didn't deserve….but family, nonetheless.

On the monitor, Gordon leaned forward in his seat, which creaked with the weight distribution. "Listen, Bruce…we won't keep you. We'll leave you to share the good news with Selina and discuss it between the two of you. Why don't you take a look at those map files at your leisure and let us know if there are any additions or changes you would make?"

"Good news?" Selina muttered. She turned her head slightly to look at Bruce, who merely raised his eyebrows and placated her with a mysterious smile for the time being.

"Actually, Selina…once Bruce fills you in, I think that your input may help us out, too," Blake suddenly spoke up, and four other sets of eyes looked at him in surprise. Blake immediately grunted a begrudging, quiet laugh and looked down awkwardly as he rubbed at his neck. "You knew Gotham like the back of your hand, ok? People with your skill level are, ah…a rarity."

"If I were you, I'd take that compliment, Selina," Fox said as his eyes twinkled.

Gordon merely nodded, his expression more thoughtful than anything else, but it brought an end to their conversation as he looked down at his watch and tapped it to signal to the others that it was indeed approaching sunrise and likely the time when two out of three of them would report for their normal day jobs.

Selina watched Blake's expression carefully as they all said their goodbyes, wondering what he did with his daylight hours now that he was Gotham's protector after dark. She gave her head a little shake, forcing herself to snap out of her encroaching thoughts. _It really was none of her business how Blake spent his time…_

Bruce switched off the monitor and the slight, barely-audible _hum_ that accompanied it died, leaving the room in total silence. Before Selina could open her mouth to even begin to ask him questions, however, he reached out and tugged at her hand, pulling her into his lap just as he turned the chair to fully face her. His arms immediately wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her tightly against him, resting his chin against her ear. God, his body was a warm and welcome relief from the stress she had left behind earlier, she thought. She relaxed against him, arms resting over his, and the tension literally fell off of her in waves. How could he do that with just a look and the touch of his skin?

"You're home early today. Why?" he rumbled softly against her ear.

"Funny, I got the same greeting from Alfred," she murmured as she tilted her cheek against his neck.

The roughness of a day's overgrowth of facial hair didn't even bother her. She kissed lightly at his jaw line, relishing in the sweet and salty taste, and everything she'd left behind at the office evaporated in the instant that he properly turned her to face him and relented against her lips, giving her full access to taste him deeply. He kissed her and kissed her again, and together they fell into the motion of raking their fingers through the others' hair, Selina grinding against his body instinctively. The air around them hushed until all she could concentrate on was the slip and slide of their lips giving the intervening silence a rhythm.

The thought of her intensity, though not unusual, came to him errant, unwanted, and he reluctantly pulled back with a half-sigh, half-moan. His forehead met hers and rested there, their torsos heaving together as they both let breathing catch up with them.

"You didn't answer my question," he gently chided her, watching the passion behind her fluttering eyelids returning to the nerves of steel she usually carried with her. He felt her fingers kneading gently at the base of his scalp, circling gently as she expended nervous energy. Finally, she sat upright and detangled herself from him, swinging her left leg gracefully out from under the arm rest of the rollaway chair, leaving him bereft as she got up.

"Let's just say that the boss lady's husband doesn't take so kindly to one of his office minions not turning into a harlot just because he dangles opportunity in front of her face," she replied as she walked down the hall toward their bedroom.

She shed her Italian Birdseye linen top and pencil skirt as he trailed behind her, his further line of questioning nearly dying on his lips as he appreciated the rear view of her silhouette clad in nothing but black lace undergarments. She immediately walked into their wardrobe closet looking for something more comfortable to settle into, and he was left holding her discarded clothing as he stood in the doorway watching her, willing his thrumming heartbeat to stop reacting to her state of undress.

"What are you telling me, Selina?" he asked as she turned to his side of the closet and began wading through his pile of favorite worn t-shirts.

She paused in her search and swept her bangs out of her eyes as she regarded him for a long moment, her pupils seeming to swirl like heated chocolate melting together. Finally, she shrugged nonchalantly and rested her hands on her hips with an exasperated sigh. "Not much, honestly, except that the Angellettis can't seem to agree on how to best utilize the skills for which I was hired. I made it quite clear to them today that if they can't come to an agreement on that, then they won't expect to see me sticking around."

"Look, I know you can more than take care of yourself, but-"

"No, no buts," she interrupted. She reached to grab her work clothing from him, tossing it in their dry cleaning pile before she cocked her head to one side and seemed to listen intently for a moment. "Is Alfred still around or did I just hear him leave?"

"He said he was heading out to the open air market just before you came in. Why?"

In a move that screamed premeditation, she sauntered past him and shut the door to their private suite, turning the lock until it snapped with a _click_. Then, she pounced.

In the time of one half-breath, she had his lean, muscular body pressed back against the archway of the closet, and the erotic waltz that threatened to tap dance between them just minutes earlier sprung back to life. She pushed her hands underneath his black t-shirt as she recaptured his mouth, telling him with lips and tongue that the garment, though soft against her skin, had to go. He raised his arms and allowed her to pull it over his head, the edge of the door frame reminding his spine of its existence with pain as he did so, and he momentarily stilled her actions as he pushed her back out into the bedroom.

She surprised him as she pulled him toward a long, white plush chaise lounge that was situated several feet closer than the bed. Her body collapsed against it as she pulled him down with her, and he spread his palms down against the fabric on either side of her waist, fighting for balance, but he slipped as she reached impatiently for the fly of his jeans. His body fell onto hers as he lost his purchase, bringing him close to her, closer.

"Ow," he mumbled, hot breath against her skin. "You okay?"

"Fine," she panted as his weight lessened. Her long, slender fingers continued their work, dipping into his pants underneath the waistband of his boxers, tangling in the coarse hair that wound a path down his groin.

He drove himself against her, shoving her body against the lounge with enough force to show her the electricity sparking between them. "Selina!" he hissed, more like a curse than he intended it to be. He recovered, laughing softly in her ear, and repeated her name again, this time with more awe than desperation. If she needed to use him as a stress reliever today – and clearly she did – then he was going to let her have her way. He knew he'd get her to talk after.

The talking thing, they had definitely gotten better at. But they were also good at _this_. Very, _very_ good.

He reached his hands down to assist her as she rubbed her thumb against the brass button that promised to gift her with his body, and together they shimmied it against his skin to catch the lip of the button hole. Release. She yanked the barriers between them away and he sucked in a breath, so desperate and deep she thought he might collapse on her again. His feet scuffed the floor as his powerful body sought traction after kicking the material several feet across the hardwood floor.

She braced his hips with her thighs and dragged him against her, merciless.

She then pressed the heel of her palm against him, rutting against his length from base to tip. His muscles strained.

"Jesus," he hissed, and her lips flattened into a Cheshire Cat grin before she kissed his throat. The stubbly space under his jaw. Licked the perfect curve of his chin. His lips. Wandered to his nose. His hands reached and tore away her bra before he pressed against her, seeking more, seeking his fill, seeking something.

He nudged her legs further apart with his hips, aligning them perfectly and coating himself in her arousal. She feathered her hands at his sides, felt the ripples of his ribs as they expanded and collapsed with each heaving breath. The skin over his left hip slid under her palm, all smooth scars, supple, and warm. She moved her hands up to his broad, shuddering shoulders and let them wander down his spine, coming to rest at his ass and encouraging him with only the slightest push before he sank deeply inside of her in a single thrust.

She arched and threw her head back as the first wet friction of their joining made her insides quiver and milk him almost instantly. The second sharp movement of his hips absolutely laid her to waste as he sheathed himself like a key in a lock, intimately gripped inside of her slick, warm skin. He halted inside of her as she gasped loudly, her cries echoing off of the walls around them as he admired the ripples of her abdominal muscles as she clenched him internally. Releasing the grip he had on her hips, he used a thumb to trace the outline of the muscle as he pulled all of the way out of her, watching her stomach flatten and her body momentarily relax before he pushed both of her legs up high and roughly re-buried the full length of his overly engorged shaft inside of her.

There were days when he knew that Selina needed him to cross that line between pain and pleasure – needed him to coax the stress and worries from her body by giving her something else to think about entirely. With this in mind, Bruce completely committed himself to exerting all of his energy, lifting just under her to angle her exactly in a way that would allow him to sink in to the base with each grinding of his pubic bone against hers.

Selina's eyes rolled back as she felt him smack her lightly on the ass before she felt his wandering hands sliding back up the curve of her hips and up to her breasts while he continued to do most of the work. Her soft skin was coated now in a sheen of perspiration, but passed like silk beneath his fingertips before he perked her nipples with the touch of his thumb and then pinched them roughly.

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes," she quivered. It was an intense sigh, but came out more like a rough command and landed enticingly against his ears, encouraging him to continue. Her breaths shortened as he continued to pump, and he used the sound of her inhalations and exhalations to tell him what was just right. What was perfect.

He bent and kissed her throat, her heartbeat fluttering underneath his lips as a tinge of salt tickled his taste buds and the smell of their mating hit him particularly hard from this angle. Sweat dotted his brow and his gaze took on a dusky, desirous quality as everything about her blitzed his senses. He paused on a downward thrust and saw Selina's face flushed with the same intense sexual heat, and that was his undoing. Wrapping his arms completely around her, he lifted her from the lounge and encouraged her legs around him as they moved several feet to the bed, never breaking their connection in the process.

They landed roughly on the comforter, Bruce scrambling to bury his fingers between her legs, adding pressure on her clit as they rocked together in a jagged rhythm of push and pull, push and pull. Finally, a deep, twisting moan shuddered from her throat as she came undone, every nerve ending in her body shaking as she bucked against his hand and he felt her legs slick with their desire as his own release followed seconds behind.

They lay together breathing and spent, body to body, skin to skin, completely erasing the bad day that had come before.

* * *

A half hour later, they had settled into a comfortable quiet, their erratic heartbeats calming as they lay sprawled across their bed watching an orange and black Hoopoe bird gliding gently outside of their open window. Selina was on her side with her back against Bruce's chest, their thighs wrapped together, and a thrill ran down her spine as his hands that had been splayed out across her sweaty stomach moved north to gently massage her breasts.

She sighed contentedly and allowed him a few more minutes of his ministrations before she stretched lazily and turned to him, raising an eyebrow as she gave him her best suggestive grin. "You trying to get me into another round, Mr. Wayne?"

"I don't think I could _handle_ another round, not even with a medically-rehabilitated body that feels nearly brand new," he responded. "It took me 45 minutes to even move after you left this morning."

"But you don't complain about the way I wake you up before I go…"

He rolled his eyes and cupped a hand under her chin to press a soft kiss to her mouth. "And I never will," he promised, his lips quirking with a playful grin.

She laid a palm flat on his chest as she settled her head against his breastbone, his chin resting in her hair as she listened to the repetitive procession of life beneath her ear. All was quiet for a few moments as she traced down the line of his torso with her index finger, counting his parade of scars and the dips and flat planes of his abdominal muscles.

"So, what's this 'good news' that you guys were talking about when I got home?" she finally asked, and she both heard and felt him exhale a soft laugh against her scalp.

"Are you going to hold that over my head before you tell me what happened at the office?"

Cocking her head and looking up at him, she gave him a bemused look as she propped her chin on her hand, her elbow resting in the juncture of where his arm wrapped around the warm skin of her back.

"I'm not keeping anything from you," she replied softly.

Times like this were when she wanted to raise her voice at him, to pick a fight, to do anything to remind him that despite loving him and living with him, he didn't need to know every little detail of her life. But in the time they had spent in a true relationship – from when she had nursed him back to health after Gotham to when he had undergone extensive experimental treatments for his back and post-concussive issues when they first arrived in Italy – she had tried hard to turn a corner and to open a part of herself up to him that she had never shown to anyone.

Selina Kyle, for all of her street smarts and stubbornness, was practicing the art of learning patience. In reality, they were learning it together.

"I know you're not," he reassured her. He reached to take an errant wisp of her hair between his fingers and pushed it behind her ear. "It's just not like you to leave the office early. The only time you've spent away from there was when we were back in Gotham."

"You mean when I followed you to Gotham."

His eyes continued searching her face. His unwavering gaze opened up her soul as he nodded and let out a breath that sounded to her ears like remembrance and satisfaction. "Something like that," he affirmed. "I know you've had some big projects coming up, so I was just surprised to see you taking any time off."

"It's an afternoon, Bruce. It's not like I took a vacation."

"Hmmm. If they can't figure out what your job duties should be, maybe you should lay low until they've figured it out," he theorized. His grip tightened around her back and he rubbed her there in idle circles. "I know I wouldn't complain if I saw more of you during the day."

Selina grimaced as she sat up and pulled the sheet around her, leaving him bereft. "That's the thing though, Bruce. Alvise wants me to model this new line I designed, and Ginevra doesn't. He doesn't take no for an answer, even when it's clear that she disagrees with almost all of his decisions. Not to mention the fact that he just fucks his way through the staff to get them to side with him."

He blinked as the words popped off of her tongue, unbidden. His jaw clenched. Unclenched.

"I swear, if he so much as looks at you sideways-"

She turned back to him and gave him a look as the timbre of his voice, low and dark, clicked in her brain. "You'll _what_, Batman? I'll tell you what I told her today. You think I'd let him walk out of that office on two working legs if he uttered one unacceptable syllable to me? I'd crush him to the size of a single grain of sand in the desert."

His mouth opened and closed as if to say something, but he was held back by the glint of fire in her eyes. Instead, he reached to pull her back to him and the mattress frame creaked as their weight shifted. She folded back against his chest like a missing puzzle piece completing a picture. She swallowed, breathing in the musky scent of his body that was so familiar and so male, and absentmindedly played with the long, thick fingers that settled back over her midsection.

An easy silence passed between them as the smells of the Mediterranean landscape wafted into the room. Even after they'd lived here for months, Selina didn't know if she'd ever get used to not only being able to smell the breeze of the sea from their home, but also the stories the stones all over town were whispering in the wind. Otranto was laid-back, beautiful, safe and secure. Nothing like Gotham.

Gotham City, with its oversized mismatched buildings, deep underbelly, continuous blanket of smog and a dark noir rising up around every citizen who dared to walk its streets.

"So what's going on back in Gotham?" she finally asked. "It's not every day that Boy Wonder thinks he'd get any use out of my…unique brand of assistance."

He tipped her face so that he could look at her, his dark hazel eyes hooded with such a serious look of consternation that it almost disturbed her for a moment. She hadn't made it a question – of whether she was qualified to help Blake, or Gordon, or Fox, or really _anyone_ for that matter. But it was in her tone – that underlying hint of her place within these gentlemen's lives still being questioned within her own mind – that tore at his heart sometimes. She usually tried to hide that raw inflection from him, even those tiniest moments of self-doubt that she tried to bury beneath sarcasm and clever wit.

If there was one thing in his life that Bruce Wayne was sure about, it was this. Them. His world – those men who made up his family and who had his sacred trust – and Selina Kyle's place among them. And he wished it was a feeling that he could share with her that he knew she could believe in. _Here, have some of my sureness. My certainty. I'm overflowing with it. _

Certainty wasn't like that, though. Not for her. Put her on a rooftop, in the middle of a jewel heist, or in front of a room full of thugs who wanted to rip her limb from limb, and confidence spilled from her every pore. But in any other situation – especially where personal relationships were concerned – she couldn't borrow certainty from people who had it in abundance. She needed her own, and she was finding it. Slowly healing. Anger surged through him as he imagined all of the reasons why she needed healing. Her hellish addict of a father. Her mother's death. The harsh and unforgiving streets of the worst parts of Gotham where she was forced to fend for herself.

Moments like this made him want to crawl inside of her soul. Nobody deserved this kind of self-doubt, least of all her, and his inner fury at those who had ever treated Selina as _less than_ made him want to rage at the world. Instead, he channeled all of that dark energy and fire and harnessed it into talking _with _her, not _at_ her, on a daily basis. Sometimes, just sharing conversation was enough to make him feel like the building blocks he'd been laying with her for the past eight months were turning into a strong, steady foundation.

Strong enough to build an entire life on? Maybe.

"Actually," he finally began as he held her gaze, "your unique brand of assistance is not only exactly what Blake and the boys in Gotham are going to need, but you're the only one who can give it to them. You see, Selina, there's going to be something of a papal visit to Gotham, and Gordon and Blake are going to need to know every single nook and cranny of that city for security purposes."

She frowned as she digested his words. "A what…visit? Papal? As in-"

"The Pope himself will be coming to Gotham," he confirmed, finishing her sentence. "And this is all happening in a matter of months. Apparently the UN General Assembly believes that his visit will inspire the rebuilding and peacekeeping to continue moving forward in the largest city in North America. Unfortunately for Jim Gordon, that also means that so soon into this rebuilding process, Gotham will see its largest-ever influx of tourism."

"Unfortunately? Bruce, you know as well as I do that there are still displaced residents living on the streets. Many of the businesses never reopened. Gotham is hurting for cash and a big event like that can help."

"Exactly," he affirmed as he shook his head. "That's what we were discussing when you walked in today. Gordon can utilize Blake in a way that he never could with me, and that's through having someone who can act as a watchdog both in the dark and in the daylight. Blake is going to need pinpoints of every spot in that city where people could hide, where smaller crowds could swell, where trouble could potentially go wrong. Rooftops, side streets, crevices in and around bridge and tunnel entry points."

She gripped at his hands, which had been making taut circles on her abdomen, and stilled them, tensing up as if he'd just made a left turn in this conversation and somehow she'd missed it.

"So you're saying we're going back to Gotham to what? Help patrol the streets for lunatics who don't like religion?"

"No…no. We're not going back. Not now," he quickly assured her. "All of our assistance can be offered via satellite and computerized maps. Fox can get such intricate multi-dimensional maps out for us to review, it'll feel like we're there. We'll get street overheads, building interiors…the whole nine yards."

"And next you're going to tell me that Wayne Enterprises is funding all of this security research with the amazing profit its been able to turn around during a little more than half a year of reconstruction," she said flatly. She ran her hands back through his hair that had grown nearly to the lowest point of his neckline, pulling his face and his serious eyes closer to hers in the process. "At some point, there have to be more businesspeople in and around that city who are willing to donate a buck for a good cause."

"We've made some investments in the last few months that have done well for us," he rumbled quietly. Their noses nearly touched and he found it difficult to have any type of serious discussion when they were close enough for him to feel the heat crawling across every inch of her skin. "If you'd rather not get involved, Selina…"

"No. It's not that. I…I want to help," she sighed. The air that escaped her lips was drawn right into his. "And I'd be lying if I said I didn't live for a good challenge like this."

"But…what?" he whispered against her face. There was _clearly_ a 'but' hanging somewhere in the space between them.

"You once told me that in order for your assets to best help the city, Bruce Wayne couldn't exist anymore. But it's so easy to get sucked back in, for both of us. We both want to see Gotham thrive. But if it comes at the risk of our clean slate…."

His eyes narrowed.

"Selina?"

She gauged him. The crinkles of skin at the corners of his mouth had set in a line. His stare was sharp and clear. His posture was still relaxed, but there was a steadiness to him that silently told her that he would be ashamed to make her bear any weight alone.

"Alvise Angelletti reminded me today that my background check was totally clean, and that my paychecks are all being deposited offshore," she confessed bitterly. "It was my first reminder in eight months that maybe we never are so far from Gotham, after all."

"And how did you respond?" Bruce asked easily, willing his tone to remain neutral.

"I played it cool. Told him to either fucking fire me or get out of my office," she smirked as she recalled the moment. "I'm not worried that he's going to find anything, and I would go so far as to bet he's already tried to do some research on my past. But it makes me question now how deeply involved we want to get with Gotham if it calls for us to return there for any reason."

He swallowed, thoughts racing as he tried to come up with something acceptable to say…something that would assure her that their near-perfect lives out here could remain unaffected by happenings in the city and in lives they'd left thousands of miles behind them. But they both knew, deep down, that their desire to see Gotham move courageously forward with its rebuilding efforts was always going to be a priority. For Bruce, the city was part of his soul, and would be from the cradle to the grave. For Selina, she needed to see the streets of Gotham ridded of the kind of filth who had taken her roommate and friend from this earth.

And so Bruce Wayne did the only thing he knew to do in a situation like this. He kissed her. Not to distract her or to to do anything other than say what was on his mind with something a little more substantial. He wasn't trying to use hollow words and promises he couldn't keep. Inside, always, they would be the Bat and the Cat. But here, even with different names on their passports, they were Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle. And he reached to touch her in that way that only _he_ could and only _he_ would ever be allowed to – he touched her as if he could touch the fragile beneath her strong, like she was delicate rose petals wrapped in a sheet of iron. He touched her as if he was grateful for her existence. He touched her in a way that never showed self-awareness. Only she was important.

He pulled away from her lips and dipped his head to breathe against her neck, her ear, nuzzling through her hair as she crawled back inside of the cocoon his body offered. She sought out his hands as she stretched out against him, lacing her fingers through his in a gesture that always seemed deeply intimate and was never taken for granted.

He rested his head on her shoulder, dropping a kiss there before he looked down at their hands, imagining wedding rings there.

These type of daydreams had started coming to him more often lately. Of a white golden band sliding over his left ring finger, piloted by her eager, arching fingers. The metal would feel cool but solid as it slipped over his knuckle and settled, wrapped around his skin, a promise for a long, long future where the world was theirs and the only reminder of their past was the steady support of the people they already called family.


	2. Chapter 2

Greetings all of you lovely, lovely readers. :) Sending a virtual hug to each one of you who took the time to review Chapter 1. I'm honestly still kicking myself for starting this story because I feel like it's all over the place and I also feel like I'm biting off more than I can chew with the introduction of new characters and overlapping story lines, but hopefully in the end, the chapters will have pieced everything together that my my mind wants out of this story!

With that being said, I was going to write (or rather, was attempting to write!) an action sequence for Blake here that I chickened out on. I promise better action-y content in the future (at least for the Bat and the Cat!), but for now you'll have to settle for minimal Bruce/Selina in this chapter. My apologies for all of the BatCat romanticism, as well. I promise most of this chapter is just plot-point stuff, and hopefully I'll be able to fully get my head around this story soon! :)

As always, feedback is my crack. Now here's Chapter 2!

* * *

**Family Ties, Chapter 2**

"It's a bloody good thing that your crime-fighting skills never depended upon your ability to properly utilize kitchen utensils."

From his perch in front of the stove top, Bruce took a breath, opened his mouth and mentally prepared what would surely be an intelligent, well-thought out comeback. But before the words could pass through his lips, Alfred had snatched both the spatula from his hand and the frying pan from under his nose, ceremoniously sending Bruce's barely recognizable attempt at breakfast into the garbage disposal.

The machine seemed to groan in protest as Alfred turned back to Bruce and gestured to the trail of litter scattered across the normally gleaming counter tops. His eyebrows raised and the corners of his lips turned up slightly as if to ask, _What the hell have you done in my kitchen?_

"I was hungry for an egg white omelet," Bruce mumbled as he moved away and relinquished control of the space to the culinary expert between them.

Alfred slung a towel over his shoulder and began rifling through the refrigerator, pulling out the necessary ingredients as he eyed Bruce acrimoniously. "I'm not shocked that you're famished this morning, considering you and Miss Kyle couldn't be bothered to eat a proper dinner last evening."

At least having the decency to look somewhat embarrassed at the mention that he and Selina had barely emerged from their bedroom the night before, Bruce shuffled from bare foot to bare foot on the cool tile floor, at the same time making a valiant effort to brush away the crumbs he'd left scattered about before he crossed his broad arms over his chest.

"Selina had a rough day at work yesterday-" he began almost apologetically, but Alfred held up a hand to silence him.

"If it were any of my business, she'd have talked to me about it on her way in yesterday or on her way out this morning. Just know that the next time you don't remind me not to prepare your supper, you and the Missus can start memorizing the local takeout numbers because you'll be forced to use them for a while."

"Dually noted…for the both of us," Bruce winced. "Although if you truly want to, Alfred, you _can_ take a few days off. I think we'd survive somehow."

Multi-colored bell peppers, tomatoes, green onions, feta cheese and black olives made their way into the pan, guided by Alfred's know-how and the insight he'd gained into the local Mediterranean cuisine. Only when he was satisfied with the outcome, and the mouthwatering creation was folded onto Bruce's plate, did he glance up with a raised eyebrow.

"And what would give you the idea, Master Wayne, that I'm in need of a vacation?"

He pulled a gleaming fork out of a drawer and walked over to the breakfast nook, motioning for Bruce to follow him and sit as he did so.

"Well, how about the fact that the lovely Dr. Thompkins has been out here twice in the last several months? She can't keep leaving her patients, and you know that if you want to visit Gotham, Fox can have your travel arranged before you have a chance to worry about what I might eat while you're away," Bruce grinned between forkfuls of food.

Alfred pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table and the tips of his ears heated, though he'd never reveal himself to be anything other than composed where Bruce was concerned.

"Bullocks," he muttered. "She'd been out here as much to check on your progress, and it would have behooved you to perhaps include her on some of your last medical checkups, seeing as how she's solely responsible for the fact that you're even sitting at this table to begin with."

Bruce wiped his mouth with a napkin and held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Fair enough. It's just…I want to see you happy, Alfred. And I know that Leslie makes you happy. You've looked after me my whole life," he said quietly. Earnestly. "I think you and I have both learned the hard way that time doesn't go backward."

"Well you're sounding awfully philosophical, Master Wayne. Is something on your mind?"

"Maybe."

Bruce polished off the remainder of the plate and stood to walk his plate to the sink, dutifully soaping and rinsing it as Alfred continued watching silently, eyebrows raised in askance and with the slightest whisper of a smile gracing his aging features. Bruce could feel the watchful gaze on his back, and he finally turned around and leaned against the countertop before he expelled a steady breath.

"It's just that I've spent my entire life attempting to forge some peace within myself, and now because of Selina, I can truly say that I've found it. I know it's only been ten months, but I only needed to be with her for a few minutes to realize that she is…my entire future. She's it…she's everything. You told me once that maybe we should stop trying to outsmart the truth and let it have its day, and the truth is that I'm better when I'm with Selina…and you're better when you're with Leslie."

Silence crackled for a moment like a livewire in the room. At first, Alfred had remained stone faced, trying to process the words his lifelong charge just had tumbling out of his mouth. But then he blinked as the thoughts began coming together in his head, and a warm feeling of peacefulness twined its way around his heart.

It was like watching a time lapse in his mind of all of the important moments in Bruce Wayne's life. Sadly, most of the happier events – grammar school graduation, day camps, science fair trophies, and high school commencement – were eclipsed by the ever-present sadness and brooding that he had grown up with since losing his parents at such a young age. But the monumental moments – the ones since Bruce adopted a persona that would allow him to fight injustice – were some of the prouder moments of Alfred's life, even when he was sick with worry or disagreed with Bruce's plans entirely. All along, all he wanted was for Bruce to find someone who not only filled the empty ache that Bruce never talked about, but someone who could visibly lift the heavy weight of Gotham off of his shoulders and help him carry it. Alfred knew that it would be impossible that anyone could ever get Bruce to abandon helping Gotham entirely; what he hadn't counted on was Selina Kyle making it clear that whatever Bruce was shouldering, she, too, would shoulder. But most of all, she had given him – hell, she had given them both – a reason to trust in the world again.

The rustle of fabric slid low and quiet through the air as Alfred shifted, drawing Bruce's discarded linen napkin into his weathered hands and fussing with it as though he was going to re-fold it. Then he lifted his misty gaze and openly smiled as he stood and approached Bruce.

"You know, Miss Kyle has reminded me more and more of your mum, and you, of your father, in the time we've been living here," Alfred said quietly. A thoughtful look passed over his face as memories continued to play in his mind like beautiful songs from an old jukebox.

Bruce's own hazel eyes lit up in question. "How so?"

"When I first started working for your parents and their marriage was brand new, your father was still trying to find a way to get his hands 'round the fact that your mother was much more used to the social scene than he. Your father was a philanthropist who used his status to champion causes and charities," he explained as he reached for Bruce's clean dish and swapped the napkin for the dishtowel. "Your mother was a debutante who also knew a lot more about the ins and outs and highs and lows of Gotham society. She knew the rich, and she also knew those who were struggling or who made poor decisions in an attempt to turn their luck around. When I first arrived here, I could see that your parents were very much in love, but that your mum still carried a bit of a rough edge to her and had her own thoughts and plans."

"But dad didn't want to change her…"

"Exactly," Alfred confirmed. "It was never his desire to change her. It was both of their desires to embrace each other's differences. And over time, your mother started to have those vulnerable moments when she would show your father that she had the same feelings as everyone else…that she could go from drowning in bitterness to being so happy that she as high as the sun. She had those uncertain, in-between moments, too. But you know what your father saw? He saw that beyond that sometimes prickly exterior resided someone who felt and loved and lived with little swings of emotion just like everyone else. She lightened him up and outright cracked the mask that he, himself, walked around wearing sometimes when he was all about business."

"So what you're saying is that I'm more like my father than I thought?"

"Yes…and no. I'm saying that you and Miss Kyle have very much the same type of relationship. I've seen you both change each other for the better, whether you want to admit you've changed or not. And since you've now vocalized that Miss Kyle is indeed your future, I'm wondering what the chances are that you're asking her to make this relationship a 'permanent' one, shall we say?"

Bruce's brow creased as his fingers toyed with the lapel on his hunter green robe. His eyes grew soft as his mind again drifted to the same thoughts he'd had the prior evening, of Selina's finger adorned by an engagement ring and a wedding band chosen by him. It was easy to imagine, which was a slight surprise given their history. When their relationship first began, Selina had made it clear to Bruce that if he was looking for someone to domesticate, then he'd be better off without her. They'd pushed and pulled and fought, exchanged harsh words along with bruising kisses, and Bruce had remembered the days where real fear had settled into his gut – fear that she wasn't bluffing about being self-sufficient, about not needing him, about walking away.

He couldn't pinpoint where it had all changed. He supposed it may have been the day when he'd revealed everything about Rachel…the day they had first looked at this house together. He had opened up his broken soul to her in a way that he never had to anyone else, and she, in return, had started putting those broken pieces back together faster than he'd believed anyone would ever be capable of.

"I've thought about it, Alfred…believe me, I've thought about it," he finally replied as he ran a hand through his messy hair and blew out a deep breath. "Then I just keep thinking, maybe I should do something special for our first anniversary and see how she handles that. Selina is…complicated. And her emotions can be..."

"All over the place, sir?" Alfred supplied helpfully.

Bruce grinned, a shrug sloughing off of his broad shoulders. "That's an apt description. There's also the fact that she hasn't really had anyone to call family in a long time. This has been a big adjustment for her. I can be patient if it means giving her more time to embrace what she's got in you, Leslie, Fox…even in Jim Gordon and John Blake, to an extent."

"For what it's worth, Master Wayne, I think that she'd say yes now if given the opportunity," Alfred replied with a gleam in his eye. "But in the meantime, why don't you tell me more about your idea for this first anniversary…"

* * *

The next several business days inside of _Walk _fashion house passed quietly…almost _too_ quietly for Selina's liking. The only sounds that pierced the silence around her office were those of her colleagues clicking back and forth in the halls in their designer heels, and even that was infrequent since Alvise Angelletti had failed to be seen in the building since his and Selina's disagreement. When he wasn't around, the rest of the staff was mostly immobile, as they were all interested in impressing him and barely interested in acknowledging each other.

Furthermore, Selina had developed a reputation among her peers as definitely _not _being interested in making friends with them – a decision that she hadn't once regretted since stepping foot in the door. Even though she honestly couldn't blame them all for looking out for number one, she knew that they were all equally pathetic and brainwashed, and that trusting any of them was akin to trusting one of Gotham's sewer rats. Sooner or later, they'd all bite the hand that fed them. _Not that any of these women ever actually ate_, she'd thought to herself.

Without all of the drama going on, Selina was free to bury herself in her work, cranking out designs that could be described as everything from grunge to glam-inspired, from rustic to badass, from silky to sexy. It hadn't dawned on her until she'd been in the job for a few months that Bruce was her muse and the inspiration behind many of her more recent designs. Back when she'd been flying solo across Gotham's rooftops, the only inspiration she'd had to draw on was her own street smarts and sex appeal. Now, she couldn't deny that there were times she'd sketch a design based off of what she thought a man might want to see a woman in – or out of. Big bags and pointy heels were 'in', but so was wearing heart-stopping red from head to toe, or wearing leather leggings or coated jeans.

Selina was elbow-deep in paperwork at her draft board when she heard the distinctive clearing of a throat in her doorway, and she looked up in time to see Ginevra Angelletti seemingly _swoop_ in with a graceful flourish, her presence authoritative but not overwhelming as she paused across from the desk and waited to be acknowledged. When Selina's glance caught hers, the redhead leaned forward, eyes bright and alert, delight seeming to pour off of her fair skin as she waved a copy of _Urso Fabiloa_, the Lecce region's daily news magazine that was frequently utilized by big businesses.

"Stop everything you're doing and listen to this," she bubbled excitedly as she also produced copies of the _International Herald Tribune _and _Vanity Fair_ and dropped them dramatically on the desktop. "Cavalli is changing their new line. Versace is changing their new line. Valentino is changing their line. That's the big three, Maria. They all scrapped everything for the upcoming season and word is that they're working around the clock to be the first to push something out the door that showcases their new influence. You know what this means? Alvise's road trip was perfectly timed – he _really_ does have a nose for news you know – _and_ we've got to get something out TODAY. I don't care if it's just a sketch or an online teaser or a news release promising something big. We've got to beat everyone else to the punch-"

"Wait. Just hold on for a second," Selina nearly snapped as she held up a hand to stop the out-of-control rambling and began counting off on her fingers. "First of all, you need to remember that I'm about the last person in the world to keep up on fashion-related trends. Second, you really need to start explaining things one at a time, because I had no idea that your husband was on a business trip or that there's some big new 'inspiration' out there influencing everyone in the world of fashion. Third, you know I don't do well with perky people, so _please_, sit down or something."

She waved a hand toward the chairs across from her and gestured for the company's owner to sit, not used to seeing Ginevra expelling any emotion that could ever be considered close to actual 'excitement'. There was something about people emoting in front of her that still made Selina vaguely uncomfortable, even if she, herself, was willing to do it with Bruce. That was different. That was private. Behind closed doors in the sanctuary of their home. Here, nobody saw her smile for any reason other than sarcasm, and she intended to keep it that way.

"You're lucky that I prefer your honesty," Ginevra mumbled as she settled, smoothing her skirt in the process. "Now, let's get down to business, as we have no time to waste."

"I'm listening."

"Several days ago – the day you had your run-in with Alvise – he got a hot tip that an article was about to run in _Vanity Fair_ that would expose several of Italy's premiere fashion houses, with Prada at the top of the list, for looking into new development options and IPOs where they can grow their businesses outside of Italy. It seems that many started to fear that they were losing out on the culture and glamour of Paris by sticking to doing business within a country that's seen as a place with less credit, vitality, resources, and culture."

Selina shifted her gaze lackadaisically, trying not to appear as bored as she felt with all of this chatter.

"Ok…so what does that have to do with us, specifically?" she asked, almost enjoying the look of annoyance that briefly flitted across the other woman's features.

"_Walk_ is not a second-league franchise, Maria, and it never will be." She clenched her hands around the paperwork she held until her knuckles turned white, but was mindful of her employee's importance to the situation. "If our brands cross the borders, the credit, glamour, fame and decision-making is in the hands of others, and we're abandoned. Downgraded. It's why if I had run into you anywhere other than in Italy, I wouldn't have been able to ask you to design for us at all. It's imperative that we start ramping up our image with the idea that Italy is still _the_ hub for fashion manufacturing. And thanks to Alvise's well-timed trip to Rome, we now know that the new collections are moving toward religious themes and humility is _in_, look-at-me clothes and flamboyancy are _out_, and we've got to work quickly to produce a whole new line of the _modest_ variety. But I mean, really, _who_ would have thought that the appointment of a new pope would have such a strong reaction in the fashion industry? It's not like the only people in the world who wear clothing all reside in Vatican City."

Selina's gaze immediately snapped up. "Wait…what?" she asked, immediately alert.

Ginevra made a face. "Honestly, haven't you been paying attention?"

"Oh, I heard every word, believe me," Selina spat back. "Why are we talking about the pope?"

"Because the white lace dress in the window of Dolce & Gabbana's brand store tomorrow is going to look more appropriate for first communion than for a Paris runway," Ginevra answered as she stared for a long moment, unblinking. "The real meaning of fashion is a tool to express yourself. Sometimes fashion hides your language but we look for meaning in materials and fabrics to allow true personality to come out. The move toward more understated clothing is entirely associated with the Pope's influence. And we could be the first fashion house to embrace this huge cultural change."

Selina raised her eyebrows, still not connecting the dots but feeling every fiber of her being reacting in alarm.

"And how – or why - did Alvise end up in Rome exactly at the time when every major fashion house in Italy decided to suddenly become attuned to Christianity?" she asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

"Actually…it was a happy coincidence," Ginevra said with a hesitant smile. "The day the two of you clashed, he was worked up about finding a model for your designs and he felt that nobody else in the company could truly fit the bill – or rather, fill your shoes. He and I talked that night when I got home, and I convinced him that maybe he should start looking externally. Not just at modeling agencies, but anywhere, really. So I sent him off on a search and we're going to develop an entire campaign around it. A 'who's next' of the modeling industry. That, along with getting our new designs out faster than any of the other fashion houses, is going to put us on the map this year. Honestly, I may be thanking you for this later. If you hadn't stood up to my husband, we'd never be having this conversation."

Goosebumps chased a sensation along Selina's back as she sat up straight and took a deep breath, a grin tugging at her lips. "So you're saying this is more of a compliment than a complaint?" she asked, using all of her inner steel to keep her now-nervous energy at bay.

"Well, it will be a compliment as long as we can start rolling out designs today. As in, NOW. As in, five minutes ago," Ginevra sighed as she stood up and adjusted the low cut of her blouse around her ample cleavage. "I didn't go to any of the other girls with this. I came directly to _you_, Maria, so don't make me wrong for putting my confidence in you. Make this your afternoon priority and get me something end of day. I'll leave this reading material for your reference."

As her boss stood and strode out the door, Selina swallowed every urge she had to immediately contact Bruce, or Fox, or…well, anyone on the short list of people she actually trusted. Nobody had ever mentioned the pope to her in conversation in her entire life, and now it had happened twice within a week. What were the odds that it was all just coincidence? It had to be, even if the almost-never-wrong feeling in her gut continued to churn away as she worked.

* * *

Jim Gordon stood there, elbows perched on the high lip of his office credenza, his wire reading glasses framing his face as he stared down at John Blake.

Since Bane's occupation had ended and the city's rebuilding initiatives had moved forward, Gordon had rediscovered the down side to being at the top of the GCPD food chain: budget reports, departing officers, job vacancies. The city's revenues may have been slightly climbing from month to month, but budget cuts were still being implemented when it came to public service.

The city's officials had placed a hiring freeze on some of the more menial positions, like part-time beat cops and general street security in the Narrows – plus the administrative assistants for those departments – in order to compensate for the shrinking budget. Turnover rates even for full-time patrolmen had skyrocketed as the newer full-timers inevitably got pushed outside their job descriptions to make up for the lack of support staff. Too many empty positions weren't being back-filled because there weren't enough applicants to meet the losses, and the problem was only deepening. Gordon, however, couldn't blame those who had fled an environment dominated by fear, overwork and unhappiness. His focus on a daily basis had to be on the safety of the streets, and that included more correspondence with Blake and less attention given to the ever-growing piles on his dusty and neglected desk.

Before the announcement about Gotham's next big event – one which would have the eyes of the country and the world watching – Gordon's focus had been outward, and he hadn't given the proper thought to the department dissolving around him. All he'd been worried about had been navigating each day successfully without another threat to a city that was struggling to get back on its feet. Now that the city had something to look forward to and national aid kicking in to provide more help, his focus was able to turn inward to the point where he felt he could balance between inside and outside activity.

"You don't look like you're getting near enough sleep, kid," Gordon said as he looked down the bridge of his nose at the city's newest vigilante, who happened to be rubbing his eyes at that very moment. "You know there's really no reason that you have to be here during the daylight hours. Go home and get some rest."

"Rest? What's rest?" Blake responded. His fingers wrapped around his coffee cup and he slowly lowered his arm, cradling the hot beverage between his denim-clad knees. "Couldn't sleep even if I wanted to, so I may as well make myself useful."

Gordon frowned as he tossed his own paper cup into a nearby trashcan. "Yeah, well, a lot of guys around here are starting to wonder why you'd make yourself so useful when you haven't been on my payroll in quite a long time. Not to mention…there are questions about all of _that_."

He gestured to the wide array of newly-formed bruises and months-old scars that now decorated Blake's arms and face as he spoke in a hushed tone, motioning for the younger man to shut the door as he did so.

"I don't owe anyone any explanations, and nobody here has the guts to say anything to my face. And like you said, I'm not technically part of the PD, so I'm not worried about tarnishing my stellar reputation."

"Well just so you're aware, I've told some of the crew around here that you're teaching the kids at the Wayne Home a thing or two about self-defense." Gordon offered a wry smile as he started leafing through a thick blue binder on his desk. "Somehow I think your stellar reputation precedes you enough that nobody would believe you're out getting in bar fights at night."

"I'm sure some of those guys who've come after me have spent a decent amount of time in bars," Blake said as he rubbed at his jaw. "But anyone who assumes I don't have the freedom to go into a bar if I wanted to would be right."

Gordon's calloused fingers paused between the pages of all of the data he'd collected as he observed the younger main wearily. Now that he knew the sacrifices that Bruce Wayne had endured so long as Gotham's vigilante and the strain that it had put on him – the constant sacrifice and the pressure to lead a particular type of lifestyle – he understood all too well that Blake wasn't desiring a night to freely drink in public. He was desiring the normalcy he used to have until a year ago.

"I'm sorry."

Blake's gaze hardened. "Do I look like I need a pity party?" he snapped.

Gordon blinked and looked away. "No."

"Well you've sacrificed more than me to get where you are," Blake muttered as he gestured around at the photos of the commissioner's estranged family. "So don't look at me that way, unless you want that same look staring you back in the face."

"Fair enough."

An abrupt knock at the door interrupted the moment, and both men looked up as then department's head secretary strode in.

"Pardon my interruption. The updated paperwork that you had requested from the regional defense coordination center, sir," she announced as she placed a thick manila envelope on the chair nearest the commissioner.

Gordon simply nodded and the woman left as quickly as she had come.

"Everything you get personally delivered these days have the official seal of the Roman Catholic Church on it?" Blake asked as he moved to intercept the delivery. "You're going to need a whole other office just for their paperwork. Haven't they heard that it's the digital age?"

"They've also heard that it's the age of unsecure cyber security. And forget an office just for their paperwork….I'm going to need an entirely new building about the size of Gotham's convention center to host nearly 13,700 law enforcement officers, 10,000 of which will be from the armed forces alone. How do I even begin to trust in these men and women in uniform when we've been burned by so many of our very own officers right here in this city? The thought is almost enough to make me want to have the interim mayor tell the state to tell the government that Gotham is no longer interested in hosting this event."

"You don't mean that," Blake responded softly behind the din of discomfort.

He flipped through the collected data on the amount of financial help the Catholic churches in Gotham were receiving in donations – donations which would be put back into helping the city prepare for the 2.5 million visitors it was projected to be receiving – and then tossed it aside. Standing, he pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his back pocket and handed it to Gordon.

"Here . Here are all of the important numbers that you actually _need_ to know that can help you focus on getting your head around this: There are 61 buildings in the first six city blocks facing Gotham City Hall, mainly limited to about four major commercial buildings or skyscrapers per block, give or take several smaller apartment buildings that are entirely residential. In those 61 buildings, there are 1,832 windows that face the main street, 240 fire escapes, 58 of 61 that have underground access to a basement unit, and 56 that have nearly flat rooftops or rooftops that are accessible from the building's top floor. More importantly, only 23 of these buildings are reopened and fully functional since the reconstruction effort began, while others are still serving as temporary shelters or just aren't operational yet at all. It's going to be difficult to get a head count on people who actually _belong_ in these buildings versus people who are going to be trying to use them for a vantage point on the day of this event. But if you want to start with where we should be focus, why don't we perimeter this and work our way out?"

Gordon lowered his glasses and made no attempt at hiding his admiration.

"You know, your father would be awfully proud of you."

Blake offered a slight roll of his shoulders in a nonchalant response. "Doubtful," he replied as he took a seat once more and took a good, long look at the walls of the office around him. This was the space his father would have wanted him to occupy. "Pop was all about protecting the city and its people using the old fashioned way of the law. He wouldn't have understood this vigilante bullshit. Hell, most of the time even _I_ don't understand it."

"Oh, you do, son, or you and I wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You've spent some time with our mutual friend over the past year, haven't you? You don't need to tell me that he's been training you for this."

"Once. It was…just the one time," Blake trailed off, thinking about those excruciating days of pain. "We didn't exactly have a whole lot of time for deep and meaningful conversation, either, if that's what you're getting at. "

"I'm not talking about conversation. I'm talking about you following his example. He wouldn't have trusted you with this if he didn't think you understood it."

"The way that Bruce Wayne lived as Batman and the way that I'm choosing to live my life right now are two completely different lifestyle choices. Wayne was an introvert by design. He holed up in that mansion in the daylight hours just waiting for night to fall so he could go out and do his thing. That's not me. And our underlying reasons for putting on that mask, for as similar as they are…they also couldn't be more different. I can't be him. I can't be…someone who goes years without anyone caring if I come home at night."

"He'd never expect you to be him," Gordon responded. There was a deep understanding in his eyes as he looked at the photos on his desk. His ex-wife. His beautiful children. "Wayne didn't just set you on one path. He created several and he was hoping that you'd choose one where you could be that hero but still inevitably finish this story with a happy ending."

Blake stood again and began pacing the short floor length of the office, running his fingers through his dark hair as tried to force his mind to settle. He was _more_ than aware that across the street, in the rotunda of City Hall, stood a larger-than-life tribute to the Batman that Bruce Wayne had lived and breathed for more than a decade. While he knew that the nights that he, himself, had faced as Batman over the course of the past ten months were likely a walk in the park compared to things Wayne had faced in his earliest days, Blake was still sure that he didn't want to waste a full ten years living in the isolation and seclusion that Bruce had resigned himself to. He wouldn't survive it. In that regard, he and Bruce were two different animals.

"You know, I've never had blood family outside of my parents," he finally said as he ran his fingers over a large map of Gotham hanging beside the window. He traced the white lines of the city's grid and the thicker red ones that marked bridges being rebuilt. One of them being the bridge where his young life could have very well ended. "When I joined the PD, everything changed. I had brothers, you know? For the first time, I felt like I had a real family. I appreciate everything you and Fox are doing for me, and I'm not saying that I want back in the PD. That's not who I am anymore, either. Those kids at Wayne Manor and the staff that have been put in place…they're like my family now. But it doesn't make it any easier to look them in the eye and hide how I'm spending my time. I look at what Wayne has now – the happy home, the equal partner, the ability to see the world outside of the confines of this city – and wonder how long I'll be doing this."

"But to the rest of the world, Bruce Wayne is dead," Gordon reminded him gently. "He and Selina had to re-invent their entire lives to get where they are now. Bruce wouldn't have passed on the mantle expecting the same result from you someday. He looked at you and knew you'd do things differently. He knew that you'd spend your nights _and _your days setting the example of what Batman stands for."

He stood and pulled a file of old newspaper clippings from the battered and paint-splattered cabinet next to his desk, rifling through it until he found the front page he wanted, and held it out to Blake. It was an image of Bruce Wayne at a board function from years prior. To the two men in this room, the Bruce Wayne in that photo looked bored and disinterested as he shook hands with a stock market investor. The rest of the world only saw the easy smile that he plastered on his face. "Bruce didn't have that luxury, being born into the Wayne family," Gordon continued. "You don't have a company to run in the meantime. That was Bruce's front, in a way. The work that you do with those kids, John…that's not your façade. That's a very real element of who you are. If you ask me, you may have a bit more in common with Bruce's other half, given your history."

Blake turned with raised eyebrows and let out a deadpanned laugh. "Selina Kyle? You think I have more in common with Bruce's _girlfriend_ than with Bruce? That's a stretch."

"It's not. During the takeover – after the jail break – she patrolled the streets at night by blending in with the shadows. But in the daylight, she blended in with the people on the streets and helped them out. I know she did it, because I saw her on multiple occasions with my own two eyes. I think that's why you pointed out that she knows this city as well as any of us. And I also think that's why you got her help in feeding me those numbers you brought here in your back pocket."

Blake scowled but shook his head while still having the decency to look sheepish. "Look, I e-mailed her, ok? I meant it when I said that she has a unique skill set. But don't go assuming we're best friends. I trust her, but…I've seen her criminal file. I know what she was once capable of. Tigers don't completely change their stripes, _commissioner_."

He said the last word with a harder edge than he intended, then quickly realized his err and mumbled a brief apology, which Gordon silenced with a hand in the air.

"No need for apologies; I can understand your reservations, given her past. But she's been without family, too, kid. And she had more than just a slight helping hand in saving Gotham. Maybe you need to start considering that what she's done with her past might not be as important as what she does with her future."

"I'll try," Blake said through slightly clenched teeth as he pulled a pair of dark sunglasses from the collar of his shirt and placed them over his tired eyes. "On that note, I'm off to meet with Alfred for lunch. Perhaps he can offer more insight."

"Alfred is here? In Gotham?"

"He's been here for a few days. I'm surprised you didn't know," Blake shrugged. "He says he might need some help on something involving the Manor, but he was vague about it."

Gordon patted Blake's shoulder on his way out the door. "If there's anyone who can get your head right, he would be your man. Oh, and Blake?"

"Yeah?"

"I neglected to ask you when you first came in if I can count on you for one job in particular regarding this papal visit. I need someone I trust implicitly to vet the list of nationwide organizations that are being given special invitation. Most of these are churches, religious groups, and affiliated organizations…not-for-profits and the like. But it's one more issue not to worry about later, to know that all of these people have security clearance."

"And we're assuming we'd be able to access files on everyone via Fox's high-end data systems?" Blake smiled. "Piece of cake. Count me in."

* * *

Water shifted as Bruce moved his leg, and his slick skin brushed Selina's thigh, reassuring her. His scarred kneecap popped above the water, and small, soapy bubbles slid left and right and down over the dark, wet hair that peppered his shin. He resettled. He felt good against her. Solid.

The remnants of dinner that they'd had delivered from one of their favorite local restaurants sat scattered on trays on the vanity by the Venetian white whirlpool tub, and the room now smelled more like the scented candles they'd lit than the chicken and seafood they hadn't finished. They were both comfortably full and attempting to relax, but he could sense that Selina's mind was still stuck somewhere in her workday.

"You know, if you're really that worried, I'll have Fox get a tail on Angelletti starting tomorrow," he said. His dark eyes watched her, unblinking. "I think it sounds like coincidence at this point, but you shouldn't have to wonder and have that on your mind, either."

Water sloshed as Selina lifted her head off of his soapy chest and craned her neck back to look at him. "It's just a gut feeling, Bruce. I don't think we need to go as far as following the guy, but something tells me that this is more than just coincidence."

A long pause followed. He searched for words. She watched questions forming. Dissolving. Wandering across his expression with creases and lines that came and went as the wheels continued turning in his mind.

"What is it?" she prodded, more concerned.

He blinked. His mouth opened and closed. Then he shook his head, deliberately looking away from her as he ran a wet hand through his hair. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but-"

"But what?" she prompted. His left arm that had been draped around her midsection had come up to wipe a hand over his face, giving her the opportunity to fully turn and face him. "What, Bruce?"

"Maybe instead of having him followed, let's find out…what he already knows," he said carefully as he refocused on her. He took a deep breath. "Do you think your breaking and entering skills are still as sharp as they used to be?"

Selina thought she had heard him wrong. Her mouth opened just enough for her jaw to slightly drop in disbelief, and then she reached her hands up to grasp Bruce by the chin and hold his face still so that he had no choice but to look eye-to-eye with her.

"I'm sorry…can you please repeat that?"

Bruce grinned and reached back under the water, sliding his hands along her calves, then lower. Her toes flexed as he wrapped his hands around the arches of her feet and drew her closer, wrapping her legs back around his waist in the process.

"Are you really going to make me repeat it, Selina? I'm having a hard enough time technically breaking my own moral code, here." The words were said nearly against her mouth as she held his jaw securely, and he attempted to kiss her chastely to distract her, but she was having none of it.

"Say it again, Mr. Wayne," she chided gently as she backed up from their cocoon of wet limbs. Her eyes flashed with the dare and Bruce swallowed at the allure of danger there. The candles around them flickered as he exhaled.

"I'm suggesting…Selina…that perhaps you may find key information already available on the computers or network within the office that you're intimately familiar with. Or, if you're not comfortable with it, we could just have Fox hack in."

Selina felt her stomach do a perfect flip-flop because she could see in Bruce's eyes that his idea terrified him. Not only against his sacred moral code, but also because the thought of her potentially getting caught breaking into her boss's office could have catastrophic consequences. Then again, it's not like she planned on getting caught.

She dropped her hands from his face and slid then down his shoulders, goose bumps sprouting under her fingertips and chasing the sensation as her slim fingers moved down his arms to grip him at the elbows. She leveraged his weight to slide closer to him again, a sly grin tugging at her lips as she planted a light kiss along his jaw line and burrowed her face into his neck.

"Just so you know…I think that you suggesting I break and enter anywhere is the sexiest thing that's ever come out of your mouth," she practically purred against his moist flesh, disbelief that he'd even suggested it still clinging to every pore of her body.

"Yeah? Well don't get used to it," he breathed. The low, soft tone of his voice slipped down her spine and surrounded her as much as his arms did then, and it was only when she pulled back slightly and saw the hesitancy in his hazel eyes did she feel the need to suddenly reassure him.

"Bruce, if you really don't want me to-"

"No. No, I do….and that's what scares me," he interrupted. "We've managed to live in peace for almost an entire year, and if you think something is on the verge of jeopardizing that, I want to do what we can to fix it. Under any other circumstance, I'd suggest that we just pack up and leave town, but…I know that wouldn't sit right with you. I trust your instincts, and if you feel like something is off, then we need to find out what it is."

Selina was quiet for a moment as she let his words sink in. Months ago, the implications that Bruce Wayne needed to be the one encouraging her to go out and pursue what once had been a natural instinct would have sent her running faster than lightning could crack across a summer sky. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander to the self-assuredness she once felt sprinting across the rooftops of Gotham. Fearless. Invisible. Free. That longing had never left her veins, but now it had to share space in her heart with a man she trusted implicitly. The feeling was still foreign, but didn't make her ache deep in her soul the way that it once did. He hadn't tried to take over her life or change her. He'd just let her…be.

"I can't believe it's almost been a year," she said quietly. She lifted her head off of his shoulder and pressed a light kiss to his lips. "It feels like it was yesterday and it feels like it was years ago. And the most commitment I've ever made for a year was to my own self-preservation."

He laughed. Actually laughed. But instead of sounding foreign and hollow, it came out sounding authentic.

"I suppose the same could be said for myself," he murmured. He pushed a soaked piece of her hair behind her right ear and let his fingers linger against her cheek, noticing the way that small droplets of water that stuck to the end of her eyelashes made her eyes shimmer in the dim light of the bathroom. He shifted his lower body. Skin slid against skin. He watched her pupils dilate and heard her quick, sharp intake of breath. "This last year has been the best one of my life," he said huskily. "If you hadn't shown up at Wayne Manor when you did, who knows where I'd be?"

She couldn't help the laughter that escaped her own mouth at his words. "Oh, come off it, Wayne," she muttered against the corner of his lips. "You only came after your pearls once Jim Gordon was put in a hospital bed. Your hero complex got you out of that house. Chasing after me just taught you how to have fun again."

He didn't outright disagree with her there, but it was still difficult for him to put into words the whys and hows of the two of them ending up like this. Here. Together. Irresistible force meets immovable object. But she had moved him, in more ways than one. She had changed him. He never would have considered himself a romantic and most certainly had never fathomed there would come a day when he would not only accept, but would encourage Selina to return to her old ways. The difference between a year ago and today is that now, he was sure that she'd return to him. The draw of dark alleys and moonlit rooftops had nothing on the magnetism of the Cat to the Bat.

"You're going to need a new suit," he pointed out. He imagined her in it as the words left him, and what small fragment of him that hadn't previously been in sensory overload fell to her mercy when she snaked her arms around his neck.

"Mmmmm…tell Fox to send it home with Alfred."


End file.
